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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22528639">A Completely Accurate Account of Events That Definitely 100% Really Happened</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drinking &amp; Talking, M/M, Masturbation, Other, Pining, Pre-Canon: Good Omens, Virgin Aziraphale (Good Omens), Virgin Crowley (Good Omens), lying liars who lie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 12:09:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,906</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22528639</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When a heavenly decree explicitly forbids angels from engaging in sexual carnal pleasures, Aziraphale, who's rather put out as he'd never managed to get around to engaging in any in the first place, asks Crowley to describe what he's been missing out on. </p>
<p>Crowley himself might not exactly have the experience to give him an honest answer, but he has more than enough imagination to give him an enjoyable one. He's not going to pass up the chance to tell Aziraphale all about his astounding sexual prowess, explicitly.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Good Omens Kink Meme Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Completely Accurate Account of Events That Definitely 100% Really Happened</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a fill for <a href="https://good-omens-kink.dreamwidth.org/616.html?thread=1065064#cmt1065064">this amazing prompt on the Good Omens Kink Meme</a> which has some further detail about where I intend to go with this fic in future updates.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"I always meant to get around to it," Aziraphale mutters, "never… never found the right moment. Person. Thing." He gives an expansive wave of his hand, covering the small hut's left side and all the kingdoms thereof.</p>
<p>"Mmm," Crowley responds agreeably. He'd lost track of the conversation a few cups ago, mainly because Aziraphale seems most interested in having it with his own shoulder in low tones. It's been nice, a calming cadence of complaints. He'd managed to catch something about babies, possibly very big ones. They may or may not have been related to some "Gregory" or other; probably a new bloodline Aziraphale has been assigned to watch over. Aziraphale seems unreasonably sulky about it, but that's really not Crowley's problem, is it? To his benefit if anything.</p>
<p>He takes another drink, emptying his cup, and leans across Aziraphale to reach the jug, which Aziraphale had set on his far side after he'd last filled their cups as though he were the master of the house. Aziraphale gives a soft noise of surprise as Crowley presses against him in his reach, but he's not about to apologise. He lets himself linger in the contact just for a moment, not long enough to be suspicious, not with how drunk they both are, before curling his fingers firmly around the handle and pulling it – slowly, as slowly as can be reasonable for an intoxicated being that doesn't want to spill wine everywhere – back and sitting straight – straighter – again.</p>
<p>"And now they've forbid it. Entirely. It's not allowed." Aziraphale continues, taking a moment for contemplation before his little announcement even after Crowley is no longer close enough to feel the heat of his breath.</p>
<p>"What?" he asks, fully willing to participate in the conversation if Aziraphale's about to start speaking clearly again.</p>
<p>"Sex. All of it." </p>
<p>Crowley finds himself remarkably less drunk than he was a moment ago, with no conscious intervention of his own.</p>
<p>"What?" he says again, because that can't have been right.</p>
<p>"I wasn't going to go around making any hi- hyb- horrible babies," Aziraphale tells his shoulder, then adds at greater volume, "Poor little things." His expression crumples, and that's not going anywhere good, so Crowley sets the jug down to wave a hand quickly in front of Aziraphale's face and clarifies, "You're not allowed to have sex anymore? You were, before? Were there regulations or..." Crowley trails off and Aziraphale gives something that might have been meant as a shake of the head or a shrug. </p>
<p>"Don' thin' they," the angel slurs, then starts again with slightly more care for enunciation, "I don't think they cared before the issue. Doubt they'd considered it much."</p>
<p>"And they can do that? Just, what, ban it and hope you follow along?"</p>
<p>"It's ba- not good. The angels they caught are- Examples were made. Did you know-" He suddenly looks like he might be ill. Crowley doesn't know, and for once he doesn't think he needs to.</p>
<p>"That's management all over, isn't it? No shades of grey. All good or all evil." He hesitates for a fraction of a moment, but if he goes too far right now he'll likely be forgiven without having to work for it. "Punishing the many for the sins of the few."</p>
<p>Aziraphale nods along and takes another clumsy drink, managing to avoid spilling due to demonic providence rather than skill. "They don't understand what it's like down here. I've seen them," he makes a gesture that shouldn't be descriptive, but to Crowley's mind is absolutely obscene. "It's not harmful. It doesn't have to be. It looks lovely. It looks fun."</p>
<p>"Yeah. Yeah. It, umm, I'm sorry."</p>
<p>This changes... nothing, really. He’d never seriously assumed he was ever going to have a chance, even if the edict from on high had been to spread love carnally to as many beings as possible.</p>
<p>Aziraphale heaves a heavy sigh and slumps down against him. It brings their shoulders together, and since that was the shoulder Aziraphale had been talking into his face is now incredibly close.</p>
<p>"Did they ban anything else while they were at it?"</p>
<p>Crowley can feel the breath from Aziraphale's lips on his own when he replies, "Not so far." Then he turns his face away, taking the warmth and the temptation to close a gap that Aziraphale wouldn't want closed – especially now – out of reach.</p>
<p>There's another sigh, and then Aziraphale straightens somewhat and turns to Crowley, eyes wide and earnest, and asks, "What is it like?"</p>
<p>Crowley makes a sound, cutting it off before it can become a word. He's not sure he understands the question.</p>
<p>"Sex, I mean, from your perspective, how has it felt when you've done it? You're attractive, you must be drowning in opportunities."</p>
<p>"Drowning," he repeats, most of his higher intellect having fled the premises.</p>
<p>"Well," Aziraphale looks down at the cup clasped in his hands. He waits for a moment before adding, "If it's too personal-"</p>
<p>He's about to say that he's never found the time for it either. He's fairly certain he'd found a person who'd be right for it a while ago – at least from what he had been reasonably sure until a few seconds ago was his unrequited perspective – never managed the right moment though. </p>
<p>There have been offers, but hardly enough to drown in, and most of them have come with a gaze directed at his coin purse – conspicuously heavy enough to induce envy when seen by the right type – rather than at him himself. He likes the thought of being seen the way Aziraphale has just implied he sees him. He likes the thought of Aziraphale seeing him that way.</p>
<p>Rather than intentionally destroy Aziraphale's impression of him he says, "Slick," which might well do the work for him. He remembers the garden, when watching Adam and Eve go about their lives had been his most frequent source of entertainment. He remembers the sounds that the things they did made, from back when he'd been vaguely curious but personally distanced from their strange acts, before repeated thoughts of making a companion incoherent with pleasure had wormed their way into his mind.</p>
<p>"Slick?" Aziraphale asks, curious rather than dubious. </p>
<p>"Well, physically, often. It's like..." he trails off into an unfinished sound. It's like what? Even if he'd never got around to sex, Aziraphale has probably led himself to an orgasm or two, or plenty, and Crowley can't let himself dwell on that right now if he wants to do anything but embarrass himself. Does he want to know what that feels like for Crowley? Probably not. So what would he want to know the feeling of? The first three answers that enter Crowley's mind are entirely inappropriate for voicing, not if he wants to maintain an image. What's left to say? "It's overwhelming at parts," he tries, mostly to keep his silence from extending too awkwardly, "to be that close to someone else and..." Is he quoting someone? It feels like he's repeating something he'd overheard someone else say. If he is, he hopes Aziraphale hadn't heard the same person.</p>
<p>"Which parts?" Aziraphale asks into his trailed off line of thought. Crowley grins and looks askance at him. Aziraphale huffs.</p>
<p>Crowley bumps their shoulders together. "I've never tried to describe it before. Give me a minute to come up with something."</p>
<p>He has come up with a great many things over the years, indulged himself in dreams and daydreams alike. He can... he has this in hand, as it were.</p>
<p>"There was, once, in a-" <i>garden</i> "an orchard. I'd been tempting the locals into petty thievery." He casts a sideways glance at Aziraphale, "No matter how many generations pass, they still can't resist the lure of forbidden fruit." He catches a suppressed twitch of lips and a soft exhalation of what isn't quite laughter but also isn't censure. "An, uh, a farmhand didn't catch me at it, but he figured out I was involved. He was..." It's a bit of a deviation from the usual fantasy, but Crowley thinks it through quickly enough, "He seemed concerned that he might get in trouble over what I'd done; enough had gone missing for it to be noticeable. I offered to make it up to him."</p>
<p>Crowley turns his head to look at Aziraphale fully.</p>
<p>The angel is staring at him like he's the most interesting person in existence. Aziraphale opens his mouth, just barely, then runs his tongue over his lip and asks, "How?"</p>
<p>Crowley grins, "That's what he said."</p>
<p>He looks away again, because the wall of his hut is fascinating in its own way and it's for the best that he doesn't try to look anywhere else at the moment. "So I kissed him."</p>
<p>He hears a short inhalation, but no indication that he should stop. "And I kept kissing him as I" <i>miracled away</i> "dealt with our clothes. He was enthusiastic, once he caught up. It was -" he can't say nice. That's just sad. He can't talk about how the mere thought of seeing Aziraphale enthusiastically wanting him has far too often been enough to get him more than halfway there. He can't pause for a decade of silent contemplation on how to best end his sentence. "- intoxicating," he finishes. It's close enough to what he'd mean if he were being entirely truthful; he has been drunk on wanting.</p>
<p>"I kissed him hard, over his neck and on his chest. I sucked at the skin until it started to colour. I wanted to leave marks, even if no-one else would see them." He realises he's moving his hands too much as he talks and laces his fingers together, looking back over at Aziraphale.</p>
<p>The angel nods, once and just slightly. "I've seen them do that. Why?"</p>
<p><i>I wanted you to have to keep thinking of me after, and I wanted</i> "To lay a claim, I suppose." He feels the corners of his mouth pull up, "to add a bit of covetousness."</p>
<p>"And this human was worth claiming?"</p>
<p>What does that mean? Crowley finds himself making an undescriptive noise and adds, "Don't think I've ever tried it with someone who wasn't."</p>
<p>Aziraphale nods, apparently satisfied that Crowley hasn't been forced to scrape the bottom of the barrel for want of adequate partners.</p>
<p>"He had his charms for the short time I knew him. And if anyone else ever saw, they'd know enough to feel envy."</p>
<p>Aziraphale nods again, an imperious little <i>go on</i> in the motion, and Crowley tries not to smile as he looks away.</p>
<p>"It didn't take long to make him stiff. When I felt him rubbing against my hip, I licked the palm of my hand and wrapped it around him." Can he say anything more explicit? He doesn't think so. Would Aziraphale be shocked at crude language right now, or like it more? He probably wouldn't like it the way Crowley wants him to if the nervous pressure in his throat choked him up halfway through the word.</p>
<p>"The sounds he made then were," Oh, his throat might close up anyway. He grunts his way through it and finishes in a voice just slightly too high to be considered composed with, "they were good."</p>
<p>He feels Aziraphale shift beside him, setting his cup down and bringing his leg up to rest his foot flat on the floor, angling his body more to face Crowley's.  </p>
<p>"I thought about where else I wanted to taste him, but before I could do anything about it he grabbed at my hips and turned me around to face the tree. I didn't resist, but he was strong enough that he would have found it surprising if I'd been able to."</p>
<p>He tries to shoot a glance at Aziraphale, but only gets as far as his knee before retreating. He can hear Aziraphale's breathing, soft but quicker than normal, and he decides to take it as a good thing that the angel isn't focussed on controlling the tempo of his body's functions. </p>
<p>"He ran his hands down my hips and pressed my legs together, then slid between my thighs. He, uh," Crowley has to stop and clear his throat. "He started moving and it was," his throat still apparently isn't clear enough. "It was good?" </p>
<p>Well, that's inadequate.</p>
<p>"I mean, the motion, I couldn't have, I wouldn't have," he makes what is hopefully a descriptive gesture, "from that alone, but it was close enough to what I needed that it helped me along."</p>
<p>He tries to risk another glance over and doesn't even make it as far as Aziraphale's knee before retreating. That's fine. All he wants is to see what sort of effect he's having on Aziraphale, to know for sure what he looks like if the effect is what he hopes, but he'll just be a complete coward and deny himself that like an idiot.</p>
<p>"He, he leaned over me, pressing his skin to mine and wrapping an arm around my waist. He was as close as he could be," <i>wanted to be as close to me as possible, despite everything</i> "and the press of his weight was, it was strangely pleasant. He kissed at my neck and moved his hand down to," he makes a very descriptive gesture then, the flick of a wrist dragging a hand along a shaft. The soft, exhaled "Oh," he hears is like a punch to his own gut. That's the sound, that's a sound he's wanted, one of the ones Aziraphale would make if he were being touched, if he were enjoying being touched by Crowley. It's marked out specially and stored in his memory to be pulled out again later and obsessed over at length.</p>
<p>"That bit's not much different than doing it to yourself, but it was, he was slower, more deliberate than I usually, and he, um, well, it's not your own hand. It makes it different, a bit."</p>
<p>He looks over, too fast to let himself back out. Aziraphale is flushed, eyes wide and dark, mouth just slightly open. Crowley's sure the angel has never stared at honeyed cakes this intently. </p>
<p>He probably looks even less composed himself, if the numbing heat in his cheeks is any indication. Aziraphale's entire body is curved to lean toward him. He feels like a fire on a cold night. </p>
<p>Crowley feels like someone who has his deepest desire within his grasp, and he has just enough of a relationship with temptation to know better than to close his hands around it.</p>
<p>It would be counterproductive at this point.</p>
<p>He looks away.</p>
<p>"I," he huffs a laugh that's meant to be the farthest thing from self-conscious, "I don't think either of us lasted long after that." He hears himself make a fragmented noise and glances back, just to be sure he's fully understood, "I lasted longer though. I mean, I made sure he'd had a good time before I had mine."</p>
<p>Aziraphale's open mouth turns up at the edges, "Of course, I'm sure you did." He's scarlet, they both must be. It must look terrible with Crowley's hair.</p>
<p>"And it wasn’t that fast," he adds. "I’d rubbed my forearms raw on the bark before we were done." There. That’s a realistic detail. Incredibly erotic, friction burns. Everyone knows that. Probably more erotic than leaving the impression you’d finish seconds after being touched.</p>
<p>Aziraphale looks like he's become fully conscious of the position they're in and is going to play it off as the perfectly normal behaviour of two hereditary enemies who occasionally get debilitatingly sloshed in each other's presence. Nothing out of the ordinary. He can follow that lead.</p>
<p>"So, I hope that's," he almost lets it trail off, but it's not too difficult a sentence to find the end of, "answered your question."</p>
<p>Aziraphale shifts, looking like he might change his position and drop his knee back to the floor before suddenly and almost violently deciding against it. Crowley can't let himself think about why that might be, not until he's alone again, at least. Crowley's own position isn't particularly comfortable, but it conceals what he needs it to.</p>
<p>"That's enough for now, I think," Aziraphale says, meeting Crowley's eyes more boldly than Crowley has managed to meet his for some time now. Crowley suspects it's not just delusional, arousal-fueled hope that makes him think there's an unspoken promise to revisit the matter in there. He's sure his face is doing something unattractive and hopes it's not much more noticeable than somehow turning even more red. He manages to nod. </p>
<p>Aziraphale shifts again, slightly, and gives a soft, just as slight exhale, then picks up his cup once more.</p>
<p>"Do you know," the angel says, speaking carefully in a way that could simply be a reaction to the quantities of drink he's consumed, "about the clever little mechanisms they’re building just west of here? For moving water. It's been done before, of course, but it's so pleasing to have it here as well. They're doing so wonderfully for themselves."</p>
<p>Crowley laughs, and feels himself relax slightly. They're not touching anymore, but he doesn't feel the need to fit any more space between them when he searches out his own cup.</p>
<p>"I hadn't heard yet. How are they doing it this time?" he asks.</p>
<p>Aziraphale smiles over at him, soft and as fond as is normal when this drunk, and tells him.</p>
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